


Raw

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Greg is a good husband, Hurt Mycroft Holmes, M/M, Married Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Has A Bad Day, Not rape/non-con between Greg and Myc, Supportive Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 16:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15028313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: Mycroft has a really bad day. Greg is worried and supportive.A short piece about the result of Mycroft's choice to engage in sex with an abusive man in power, for the purpose of preventing a terrorist attack.





	Raw

**Author's Note:**

> This just came to me last night as part of a dream and it seemed interesting enough to write. Emotions!

Mycroft was barely aware of himself as he entered the home he and Gregory shared. He dropped whatever he was holding there in the landing, and drifted towards the only destination on his mind: the shower. 

_Dirty. Filthy. Have to get it off. Have to wash it away. Horrid._

 

He shed himself of his clothes as quick as his shaking hands would enable. He set the water to just below scalding, and stepped under the stream. He couldn’t bare to face what was to come next, and so focused on ridding himself of any trace of the past few hours. 

_Must get clean. Scrub it off. Pain. Pain is good. Shame. Guilt. Scrub it all off._

———

Greg was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open. He grinned to himself. Mycroft had been away for two days on some important ‘business meeting’. He had missed his husband, even for that short amount of time. He turned the stove down to a simmer and took his apron off. He then waited for Myc to come kiss him, like usual, but instead he heard the shuffle of footsteps up the stairs. Greg frowned to himself. It wasn’t like Mycroft to ignore him after being away. 

 

He moved out to the stairs, ready to follow, but something caught his attention in his peripheral vision. He looked, and saw Mycroft’s briefcase laying haphazardly on the ground.

_Odd. He’s usually so careful with that. With everything._

 

Greg walked towards the front door and his stomach lurched uncomfortably. The briefcase looked as if it had been dropped from wherever Mycroft had been standing at the time, and more worryingly, his umbrella was strewn across the floor in a similar fashion. Mycroft _loved_ his umbrella. Greg had never seen him treat it with anything other than tender care, and to see it cast aside on the cold floor made Greg unsettled. 

 

He moved to follow Mycroft, to see what was wrong. It must have been a horrible trip. He stepped onto the staircase when he heard the shower run. He pursed his lips. It was better to give him some space and then talk about it after the shower. Greg knew it was often a way for his husband to shed himself of his day when they’d been particularly trying. 

 

Still, he was concerned. Even on the worst of days Mycroft had put his belongings in their place, since usually them being out of place only served to make him more uncomfortable. He’d almost always still greeted Greg afterwards, too. Deciding he’d finish making the sauce for dinner, since it was almost finished, he returned to the kitchen. Mycroft would be out of the shower soon enough, since even when he had one therapeutically he never lingered too long. 

 

Ten minutes later, Greg turned the stove off. He frowned. Mycroft was still in the shower. He couldn’t keep himself away any longer, and so went to the bedroom to wait. He froze in the doorway. Mycroft’s clothes, his three piece suit, was littered about on the floor in a trail to the ensuite. Greg swallowed. He’d never seen Mycroft willingly let his suits crumple. He walked over to the bathroom, concerned as to what he’d find there. 

 

Amidst the steam, Greg could see Mycroft curled up on the shower floor. 

“Fuck,” he uttered to himself. “Mycroft? Mycroft it’s me.” 

He didn’t receive a response, but in straining his ears, he could hear gentle whimpers. They tore at Greg’s heart. He approached the shower door, where he had a clear view of his husband. He whimpered himself as the air was sucked from his chest. Mycroft had scrubbed himself raw, and was still trying to scrape the loofa pad over himself with a shaking hand. 

“Myc,” he gasped. He stepped into the water, fully clothed, and hissed at the hot water. He squatted down before his husband and reached a hand out to him. 

“No!” Mycroft yelped, and tried to sink himself further into the corner. 

“Alright, alright, ok, it’s ok,” Greg placated quickly in a soothing tone, putting both hands up in submission. He paused, the only sounds coming from the water of the shower. His heart was pounding in his chest. “What happened, love?” 

“Don’t,” Mycroft wrenched out. He shook his head. 

“Don’t what, Mycroft?” Greg asked slowly. 

“Don’t… I’m not… I don’t deserve…” Mycroft choked, barely containing sobs. 

“Sweethea—” Greg began, but was cut off by a pained cry from Mycroft. He didn’t know what to say. 

_Oh, Myc, what the hell happened to you?_

 

“I—” Mycroft said between gasps of air. He seemed to be struggling to hold back a panic attack, but desperate to speak. “I… I cheated on you.” 

Greg’s blood ran cold despite the hot water pounding his back. 

_What? No, What? No… Mycroft wouldn’t cheat. He’d never… he always… he wasn’t like that. How could that happen?_

———

Mycroft wanted nothing more than to sink into himself and disappear. His chest was tight, and he felt dizzy. He wanted to heave for air, but he refused to give himself the luxury of oxygen. His skin stung, but he knew he deserved it. The water was hot enough to make him red anyway, but the vigorous scrubbing had done that to a stronger degree. He had to get that man’s touch off him. Even remembering the smell of him made Mycroft want to vomit. He shed himself of his suit, one that would be incinerated now, but he couldn’t shed himself of his skin. He’d tried, and managed to bleed in places, but it was still the same skin that man had touched, licked, kissed, bitten. Greg would see the bites on his skin. Greg was going to leave. 

 

He let out another sob, his face buried in his arms. He shook. He wanted to erase the the past dayfrom existence. Greg remained silent. Mycroft wanted him to shout, to scream, to call him all the things he knew he was. 

_Horrible. Despicable. Untrustworthy. Monster._

Yet… despite it all… he’d do it again. That thought made him want to bury himself alive. He would actually endure that again. The cost to so many lives if he hadn’t… even if he lost the only thing important to him in his life, Gregory, then at least he could do so knowing so many others would keep their loved ones. It was a bitter consolation. 

_Poor Gregory doesn’t deserve this. He already had one cheating spouse. He doesn’t deserve another. I hate myself for doing this to him._

 

“Talk me through it, Mycroft.” 

Mycroft looked up at Greg. His face was shocked, but still concerned. 

_Why is he still here? Why isn’t he shouting? Leaving? He wants me to explain?_

“I… it… he…” Mycroft tried to speak, but he couldn’t. The emotions were still choking him. His heart still hammered in his chest too much for speaking. “How? Why? You… ask?”

“I know you, Mycroft, and I am not going to do or say anything further until I hear what happened,” Greg said carefully. “You are reacting more like a rape victim than an adulterer, and so I need to know the details.” 

Mycroft clenched his jaw and nodded. He’d wanted to just forget. He knew it was a ridiculous idea, since the experience was burned into his brain. 

_He’s using his work language. Distancing himself. He’s giving me a chance. Does this mean he might understand? I have no right to feel hope for that._

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but a quiet, pitiful moan escaped. Greg moved again, and Mycroft thought he was going to touch him again. He flinched. Greg gave him a pained expression, but continued to move to turn the water off. 

“Come on. We can’t have you curled up here all evening. I want you to dry yourself and put on some pyjamas. Can you do that for me?” 

Mycroft gave a shaky nod. He was glad Greg didn’t offer to try help. He still didn’t want to be touched. Mycroft stood slowly, clenching his face as he did. He knew Greg would be able to see everything. He winced when he heard Greg’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Jesus, love,” Greg breathed. Mycroft opened his eyes to look at his partner. Greg’s eyes were raking over his skin, cataloguing the bites, nail indents, and scratch marks. “Do you need medical treatment… anywhere?” 

Mycroft shook his head. In truth, his rear was painful, but he didn’t want to say anything. He knew what he was getting into, and therefore felt that it was deserved. 

———

Greg hurt seeing the marks on Mycroft. He felt a protective rage bubble inside him to find the bastard that did that to his precious husband. He was more convinced that what happened was not something Mycroft had wanted, or enjoyed, even if he’d consented.

 

He stripped himself of his sodden clothes and watched carefully as Mycroft got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. Greg wanted to hold him and reassure him that it was all ok, but knew that touching him was only going to make things worse. 

They dressed in silence. Mycroft was reluctant to get into their bed, but Greg pulled the sheets back. It was early for bed, but he had a feeling that what was about to be said would be easier for Mycroft without eye contact. 

 

Mycroft curled into himself under the covers, facing away from Greg. “It started as a usual meeting. There was intelligence that this man had information that could prove to be disastrous if fallen into the wrong hands. I had to find out what he knew, and if possible, remove that information before he passed it on.” 

Greg nodded, even if Mycroft couldn’t see him. 

“The details are classified. He had the information on his personal laptop. He took interest in me… physically. I… I… Greg, I responded,” Mycroft whimpered. “I played along with his disgusting flirting to get access to his room. He…” Mycroft swallowed, “he pinned me. He was… dominant. Aggressive. He wanted to claim me. He… enjoyed hearing pain. Enjoyed the idea that you’d see what he’d done. He was so occupied, he didn’t notice. I… I got the laptop. But I had to … so he wouldn’t… so I could leave. Power. He loves power. To do that to _me_ , well, he was high on it. No one else would have him so distracted to get the laptop without his notice. I consented, Greg, you see? I would do it again if it came to it. I couldn’t let … thousands, over me… no. I chose it. I chose to take that. The terror threat averted. He’s going to prison, undoubtedly, for treason — or attempting to, at least.” 

Mycroft couldn’t stop himself shaking. The images flashed across his mind as he recounted the details, disjointed as they were. He instead tried to keep his breathing as even as possible and his stomach contents where the were. 

“Myc, oh, my sweet Mycroft… that’s not cheating on me, for starters. You obviously didn’t want that. Look what that monster’s done to you, and I don’t just mean those marks. That’s rape, Mycroft. And I’m not ever, _ever_ , going to be angry at you for going through something traumatic like that. You chose, yes, but choosing the lesser of two evils in a desperate situation isn’t the same as choosing because you want it. Listen to me. You haven’t betrayed my trust. You haven’t broken your wedding vows. I love you just as much, or even more because of what you were willing to suffer for the sake of others’ safety. Don’t for a second think I’m going to walk out on you for that.” 

 

Mycroft’s resolve broke as he heard those words. He cried out, tears flowing, and sobbed. He just wanted to hug Gregory, that wonderful, patient, understanding man. His man. He twisted in the bed and reached out, thankful that Greg saw him and quickly embraced him.

“Shh, it’s ok love, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this. You’ll be alright,” Greg cooed softly, stroking Mycroft’s hair. 

Mycroft clung desperately as he cried, but could already feel better knowing that he had Gregory there supporting him. That he was still loved. That it wasn’t the end. 


End file.
